


what is done cannot be undone

by feelingfrenzy



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Gen, Horror, Smoking, brief scene with self-mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:33:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25500673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feelingfrenzy/pseuds/feelingfrenzy
Summary: the one where changbin feels jealous
Kudos: 8





	what is done cannot be undone

**Author's Note:**

> this piece is from 2018 and has been written for my friend [sweeta](https://twitter.com/PINKS3AL) based on her alternate universe. recently i've been going through my old docs and thought i still like this text a lot so i've decided to translate it. i have good news i will be working on the full text later but since me and sweeta both have adhd this will happen never  
> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4AsL960RK1Nn9heZG5ytcF?si=1NRWc9MMRx-9z4IaeUMDbg)

To be quite honest, you can say Changbin is a pretty jealous person. In a good sense of this word, probably, because it had never been a problem for him or others—he always tried to turn it into motivation to get better so there would be nothing to be jealous of. If he would’ve turned into a petty bitch and tarnished everyone’s life, that’d been a completely different question. He’s not, and it’s a normal human emotion everyone experiences. This little normal healthy jealousy never has been an obstacle.

At least until some point in his life.

He’s thinking all of this as Jisung and Woojin slowly unintentionally exclude him out of a conversation—though it’s understandable, a merman and a werebear would obviously find more common ground with each other than a regular human. And he already has dealt with the fact that all this magical stuff is not his business and it’s not his fault. He never felt excluded before because everyone treats him nicely and they also have Chan who is a regular human too.

No, this is a lie—Chan is a living lucky charm who protects people around him from misfortune. So this doesn’t count. Changbin is the only normal boring human in the squad.

On Saturday night Changbin falls asleep with jealousy literally boring a hole in his chest.

Or maybe it will be wrong to call it jealousy—he is okay with being a regular human. It’s just he feels like he’s boring—all his friends are shapeshifters, merpeople, incredible luckies and witches, and he’s just handsome (not only because his mom said so, this was objective). He _needs_ to do something with this. Changbin never thought of himself as a super emotionally intelligent person so this feeling is quite a mystery, but in the end he decides to call it jealousy—he doesn’t like feeling like this and ‘the word has negative connotations, so it turns out slightly against himself.

He spends a lot of time thinking how he gets himself a bit closer to his magical friends. The whole Sunday morning he walks around the apartment with a phone in his hand and fumes all the furniture in the house with the cigarette smoke—though this would probably not make any change, everything probably already absorbed the smell. He always feels too fidgety to stand in one spot by the window, but now the nervousness is on the other level.

Eventually, after finally settling down at the table in front of the laptop and sort of calming down, he stumbles upon an article about something suitable in his situation: third eye. Gives an alternate perception of the reality and lets you see the true purpose of the universe, grants clairvoyance and ESP, all this stuff. Changbin reads into this article closely and gets excited more and more—that’s literally exactly what he needs!

_how to open third eye_

He lets his finger hover the key for a moment—for some reason he suddenly gets scared to find out the answer. What if this last chance is not his again? What if you were supposed to be born with a third eye too? Or he would need to sacrifice his firstborn bathed in the blood of three different horses, or what other ways of trade the magical creatures also have. Also he has classes tomorrow, what if he gets some kind of allergy? He already skips a lot, would be sad if he has to skip because of such stupid thing like warts or scales on his nose.

He puts his hand on the mouse and moves the cursor on the link saying “Feeling lucky!”, hesitates for some time again but gives in to this sudden urge and clicks. Instead of familiar “Google” in the same colorful letters another writing appears, now saying “ ** _OPEN YOUR THIRD EYE FOR FREE IN LESS THAN A MINUTE WITHOUT REGISTRATION_** ”, and Changbin thinks—shit, I really got lucky!—and clicks another link below saying “Start”. The writing changes to “ ** _CLOSE YOUR EYES_** ”, which he obediently follows and—

Yeah, logically it shouldn’t be a pleasant experience. It feels like his forehead was set on fire and then something tore out of the skin right in the middle—he yells and grabs the sore spot, nearly knocking over a tin can ashtray, and tries his best to regain the focus of his sight.

t seems like it’s been a minute at least—if his unsettled by pain mind isn’t lying to him—when he starts seeing his slippers and figures he’s been holding his forehead in his both hands and looking down on the floor.

He needs to look in the mirror immediately.

His head is still foggy because of shock, so he walks really slowly—it feels like the walls are about to start moving. It passes pretty quick—when he makes it to the bathroom, everything is clear again.

The Internet was full of weird images, like creepy realistic eyes in the middle of the forehead, that actually made him feel uneasy, but in reality it looks way better—as if he drew an eye with a marker on himself. It’s the same size as his own, but it’s stylized, like schematically drawn in simple lines with eyelashes as short three lines and full black iris. He tries to touch it, but it closes in reflex. He doesn’t feel anything which is strange—he felt it being open, he expected he could control it now. Probably some nuances, he should ask Hyunjin about it—witches totally should know better.

There’s no allergy, thankfully. Changbin inspects his face closely and doesn’t notice any changes— _still the most handsome man on Earth_ , he thinks proudly and smirks. The bangs, if lowered down, close the eye completely—this way he won’t scare the unprepared people around him.

“Congratulations, Seo Changbin, you are not a loser anymore,” he says out loud and with the same proud grin leaves back for the laptop. Here he googles a list of current lotteries and, before opening one of the pages, thinks of a number. Just a random one—if it’s legit, then the eye would suggest a format and amount of numbers.

_8426890_

He finds the exact number in the list of the winners. The eye really works. Changbin feels as if he actually won this lottery himself.

On Sunday night Changbin falls asleep happy.

***

But partially Changbin hoped some kind of weird shit like warts or scales appeared on his face overnight, so there would be a reason to skip classes today. First—he’s sick of the university, second—Monday classes are the worst. Logically if the Monday is horrible, it only goes up from here, but still—whoever gave him a 8AM class is a demon, and devil had a really fucking bad day that time he had decided to settle Changbin at the opposite side of the town. You wake up at 6, run to the bus stop when it’s cold (or rainy, even worse) at 7, then shake in the bus for another hour, waste eight hours here, then waste another hour on a ride home. Then sleep. Rinse and repeat five times a week. Basically no free time.

So this week the vicious cycle starts again—Changbin makes his way down the stars with a cigarette between his teeth, Gerard Way is screaming _so long and goodbye_ straight into both of his ears, and he’s looking at the lightbulb through the lighter—it’s still full, the catch is not to put it in the back pocket of his pants and not to crush it with his ass—and with a deep sigh pushes the heavy section door.

The outside greets him with a humid breeze, and the third eye carefully advises—it’s gonna rain later again. Changbin regrets for a second he forgot the umbrella and has no time to return, but dismisses it—whatever, he’s not gonna melt, right. He’s not made of sugar and the jackets have hoods for a reason. So he makes one step over the porch, clicks the lighter but his hand stops midway, not reaching the cigarette.

Something is up.

The humid air is too strong for simple rainy weather, rather he’s feeling like he just swam across a fucking lake in his clothes. He checks out himself—no, everything is dry, but the feeling still doesn’t leave him, and he starts freezing. On top of that the sound of the music feels too distorted, and he feels a distant strange voice, so he pauses the song, takes the earphones off and looks around.

Everything is the same, same familiar grey buildings, grocery store across the street, you can see the fencing around the school behind one of the houses, but he still feels like—

Like he is in a dark forest and he just crawled out of a lake.

The noise of a car passing by grows too high and becomes unbearable when it’s close, turning into white noise of a dead radio station, and for a second he actually experiences it—darkness, the tree branches slapping him across his face, he’s out of breath, and the leaves are cracking under his feet. Changbin tries his best to mask the panic from the outside, even though as far as he remembers the street was empty, and takes a deep breath—the forest vision fades away, but stays as a half opacity overlay, the ringing in his ears also dies down but stays as a distant rustle of the fallen leaves.

Changbin turns around and takes the direction of his home, but the road feels incredibly long, he’s walking, and walking, and walking, but it doesn’t get closer, he even tries to run, but it feels like it gets even farther away. Then he stumbles upon a person he had never seen on his way, and the vision steps back for a moment. He apologizes sincerely and actually feels like a complete idiot, and he probably looks too pitiful and scared because the man forgives him and even smiles reassuringly at him. When he leaves, Changbin notices the vision is still not back so he actually makes it to the apartment block safely.

As soon as he steps over the porch, the vision disappears completely, and the image in his eyes is clear again. He even looks back—everything is normal here. He checks it out—when he steps out with his right foot, he can feel the deafening noise in his right ear again. So he gives up on attending the first class and comes back home. Here he rummages through the first aid kit and finds a bandaid, which he uses for strapping his third eye close—it’s obvious this little fucker is the source of that shit. Now this shouldn’t be a problem, and he will figure it out later after the classes.

When he makes a step over the porch again, nothing weird happens. So he was right. Changbin reaches for the earphones, all tied up as he hurriedly shoved it in the pocket of his jacket, and suddenly—

**_IRENE HELP ME_ **

His forehead catches fire again, and he practically feels the glue coming off the bandaid, but he hopes he can just ignore this and it ends, but when he looks down at his hand again, he sees it—

He’s holding a bunch of tiny snakes. Alive ones—they hiss and try to escape his grip.

Out of surprise he actually lets it happen and drops them on the ground, and feels the bandaid coming off immediately.

Third eye opened again.

He immediately gets deafened with the white noise, and loses his eyesight for a second, feeling like he’s in that dark forest again. He clenches his teeth and catches the snakes that try to escape already, and suddenly he hears something—through the white noise he hears a woman’s scream, desperate and agonized—as if someone is screaming not because they want to be heard, but because they want it to stop.

On his lead-heavy legs, clutching the snakes, Changbin slowly walks inside the building, grasping for the walls. As soon as he walks over the porch, it becomes normal again. Just a faint ringing in his ears that fades away soon too.

Okay, he’s staying home today.

***

He barely makes it through the Monday, he starts dissociating even at home, like this distorted white noise is still somewhere at the edge of his mind. It gets stronger when he gets closer to his laptop or uses the phone to search for something on the internet. At the end of the day he starts feeling the Wi-Fi in his apartment—hard to explain how, but it bothers him so much he has to turn the router off. So he’s lying down on his bed and tries to think of something himself.

Fuck this third eye shit.

All this emotional investment and, apparently, eye usage drained him, to complete exhaustion point, and on Monday night he’s unable to sleep and even move. He only has to stare at the ceiling and listen to this faint white noise. When he starts falling asleep, he suddenly jolts awake—for some reason his bed feels like it’s covered in the slime, but when he sits up and touches the sheets, the feeling disappears.

He doesn’t remember when did he fall asleep, but he wakes up with the sunrise, but not in a normal way—the sun ray focuses on his face and it feels like a thick scorching hot needle gets pushed inside his temple, so he jumps up with a groan of pain and closes the blinds. Then he walks around the apartment and closes all the blinds. So apparently the sunlight hurts him now. Cool. The artificial lightbulb light doesn’t, as he checks.

 _Doesn’t yet,_ he thinks and shivers.

What if he would never be able to step out of his house again? What if he would have to spend the rest of his days locked up, guessing the lottery numbers? That’s why the clairvoyants spend the most of their days inside, they all probably have third eyes that bother them too.

Setting sun is still too hot to be normal but it doesn’t hurt that much.

The cashier announces the price in a very annoyed voice and Changbin feels very sympathetic, but he can’t help it—one hand is holding the bag, the other one shoves the groceries inside, and he doesn’t have a third hand to give her the money. Yeah, he probably should’ve gotten a third arm instead.

Her hands are all covered in purple-greyish spots and there’s dirt under her nails. Changbin stops his eyes for a second but doesn’t feel disgusted—he knows it’s not real. It’s just a third eye vision.

She steals.

Unfortunately this is where his luck ends. When he crosses the street, it starts again—the real image in front of his eyes fades into darkness and a new one reappears slowly. So slowly that before the image restores he first hears a gunshot, and this white noise in his ears again for a second, and then it becomes strangely quiet.

Changbin realizes he is lying down in the wet grass and stares into a black starless sky. It’s cold and he wants to sleep, his eyes close on his own, and there is no reason to get up again—he will fall again.

_It’s not for you to decide._

He gets up against his will, makes a few limping steps, and hears a gunshot again—the bullet lands into him, but he doesn’t feel any pain anywhere, just loses his balance and falls on the ground again. His eyesight partially loses focus but he still makes out his hand in front of his face, all covered in blood—since when does he have this ring?

Changbin gets up again.

Now he unlocks a short memory of the person whose eyes he’s using—they’ve been through this cycle for a billion times, and it’s been so long they already gave up on counting the time.

When it’s a fifth shot already and he’s staring into pitch black sky again behind the naked trees, he hears his name called—not Changbin’s, this person’s. He doesn’t make it out, but this person reacts to it. It’s too hard to focus and move—he feels the blood running out of the wound in a dangerous amount, and his head is too dizzy to call back.

A hand reaches for him and helps to get up.

“Fuck, dude, finally, I found you,” he hears a man speaking. Changbin can’t focus on his face, he only makes out a sharp nose and a piercing under his bottom lip.

“Minho?” He says, voice foreign, weak and raspy. The man smiles, relieved he was recognized.

“That’s me, buddy.” he pats his shoulder and leads him with himself. “Let’s smash a cold one and take a rest. You deserved some after this hell.”

 _Yeah, some beer would do a thing_ , Changbin thinks but can’t say it with another person’s mouth. That was probably his own thought.

Minho leads him through this never-ending naked forest for barely two minutes and abruptly stops. Changbin hears another person’s thoughts,

_Please, not again…_

when he turns around to him and takes a gun out of his inner pocket, which he aims straight into the middle of his forehead.

“You didn’t do what you were asked for,” Minho says in a distorted voice and pulls the trigger.

Changbin starts gasping for air and tries his best to keep standing. He quickly searches for his house and literally runs here—cooldown time is too short to waste it on fully coming back to his senses.

***

_You are a fucking idiot, Seo Changbin, and everything that's happening to you is your own fault_ , he thinks to himself maliciously while staring at himself in the mirror, lit by dim hallway light. The third eye narrows smugly, like it’s making fun of him—yeah, right, it’s your fault.

It’s Wednesday, and he hasn't left his house for a full day already. And he decides he doesn’t have to for now until he figures out what to do. He has enough food and cigarettes for now, and he can come up with something to entertain himself—reading textbooks and catching up with the classes, for example, if the internet is giving him a headache. What is strange, it’s the actual usage of mobile services that hurt him—the phone right now is lying on the table next to his bed, turned on, harmless. At least he can see if anyone misses him.

This was kind of a prophecy, apparently, because as soon as he thinks of it, he sees his phone light up and vibrate—incoming call. No, he needs to turn it off, the closer he walks to it, the stronger he feels this vibration hammering against the back of his head. When he sits on the bed, it’s too late—the caller hangs up, so he just lies down on his bed and checks who it was.

 ** _hanchovy_**  
_Missed call (2)_

 _Oh, so he remembers now to keep his phone on the shore_ , Changbin figures out and smiles to himself fondly. Their first meeting got delayed exactly because of that—Chan was trying really hard to call Jisung who was running late, but after four or five missed calls he slapped his forehead and said “shit, he probably forgot his phone can’t breathe underwater like him”. Back then Changbin had no idea he’s about to meet an actual merman—to be quite honest he barely understood anything until Jisung told it straightly who he was—and just let Chan drag him to the side of the city for the Han river shore where he sat them in a boat. And watched Chan baiting a merman by pouring a bottle of beer right into the water.

Jisung probably called him because he doesn’t know him for a long time yet—Chan already got used to the times when Changbin would find his muse and disappear for three days from the group chat. Or maybe he talked to Chan and called him anyway. This makes Changbin feel weird warmth in his chest, but he doesn’t quite know how to call this feeling yet.

_Infatuation, you idiot._

Merfolk charms, probably.

_No, dumbass, you like him._

The phone starts vibrating—Jisung calls him again. Changbin wants to pick up so bad, and to tell him everything without even letting him to say hi, then start crying in the middle of his rant because he’s too scared and tired of everything, then beg for help, but…

But he realizes it’s his fault and he did it out of _jealousy_. He felt left out in his supernatural squad, so he asked for something magical, and he got it.

_Be careful with your wishes, they can come true._

Yeah, it’s his fault, so he has to deal with it alone.

_Right-right._

**_hanchovy_**  
_okay sorry i hope everything is alright :(_

 _No, Jisung, nothing is alright_ , Changbin replies to him mentally and turns off his phone. It’s too late, he catches a glimpse of a prophecy—his own self, wearing a massive gold chain, drowning in the lake.

He stares at the ceiling for a pretty long time, wallowing in boredom and exhaustion, listening to this already familiar white noise. He’s trying to sleep, but it’s not successful—he still keeps thinking about Jisung. No, shit, he definitely talked to Chan and he told him “nah, don’t worry, he’s probably just writing”, but Jisung called him anyway. He tries to shove this thought away from his mind, but it comes and comes back with the same aching warmth in his chest—he tosses around on his bed while the third eye throws an 11th option for a name of this strange emotional attachment.

Even Jisung would tell him he’s an absolute idiot, and it says a lot.

**_IRENE!_ **

Changbin actually jumps out in surprise and immediately runs to the window, forgetting the natural light hurts him. Instead, as soon as he touches the blinds, the cloth melts in his hands like caramel. He quickly figures out it’s a vision, so he just waits for what the person whose eyes he’s using would do. Right, they take a few weak steps inside the room.

“Irene?” He hears _his_ voice, but it’s female and hoarse—damaged in constant screaming. Changbin grabs the doorknob but it melts too, but in some kind of dark glue-like slime; with some weird rocks inside of it. He squints and raises his palm to look closer at this jelly, but as he realizes what these rocks are he involuntarily shrieks, grossed out.

Teeth.

He throws it across the room, shivers and wipes his hands off the massive long skirt he’s wearing; when he walks backwards in shock he hits the table with his thigh and accidentally leans on it, but as soon as he touches it with his hand, it also turns in the same teeth jelly, and he barely keeps the balance.

“I’m here!” He suddenly hears the voice and the heels hitting the stairs—wait, since when he has stairs in his apartment? _It’s her_ , he realizes, and feels another person’s relief, so strong and overwhelming that he suddenly starts crying. It’s finally over.

Irene appears behind his back and touches his shoulder. Changbin turns around and out of excitement nearly melts into jelly too when she hugs him—his legs literally can’t hold him anymore. They lower down slowly, and Irene whispers something senseless to soothe him, uncontrollably shaking in sobs. A single look at this face was enough to forget and heal the time he had spent in this hellish room—it feels like it’s been thousands of years.

“It’s okay, I'm here, it's over now,” Irene strokes his damp cheeks to wipe off the tears and smiles. Changbin reaches out to hug her back properly, but

_This is not your reality, remember?_

as soon as he touches her exposed neck, Irene suddenly starts melting too, like watercolor painting that got wet again—her hair, eyebrows, eyes, all face features start leaking away down off her face, and then her whole body falls down in the same poodle of jelly with teeth.

He wants to scream but not a single sound comes out, and tears start flowing twice as stronger. The room is deafeningly silent, only the sound of tears dropping on the wooden floor can be heard.

_Irene, help me, please._

He comes back to his senses and realizes he actually was crying together with the woman whose eyes he was using this whole time.

Changbin wishes he could help her, he knows where the way out is—he just realized it was hidden on the opposite side of the room—but he couldn’t. Just like this time before waking up, when she tried to scream but couldn’t—he tried to make the body move but it was numb.

_You can’t do anything, you can only look._

_Thank you, Mister Rogers_ , he thinks and scoffs, and his eyes start itching, like the soap got into it. Alright, the magical powers are petty too.

***

_The magic has its price or what was it_ , Changbin thinks as he clicks the lighter, then he leans with his head on the side of the bath and takes a drag.

_Right. And with big power comes big responsibility._

_Shut up_ , he replies internally. The lamp immediately explodes and leaves him in absolute darkness.

Changbin sighs and reaches for his phone on the towel shelf, praying he would have some time to look up for the stuff before he starts going crazy.

_how to close third eye_

He doesn’t hesitate this time and sends the search query right away—he really wants to end all of this. That’s why it feels like it’s been ages before the page loads up. Or because mobile connection is slower than Wi-Fi.

 ** _YOU CAN’T_** , says the suggested search result on the top of the page. Well, yeah, just like he expected.

_What is done cannot be undone._

Changbin only clicks his tongue in response and turns off his phone before it starts affecting him again. He’s too late—as he confirms that he definitely is trying to turn off his phone, he sees a prophecy. It’s more of a contextual guess than an actual image in front of his eyes—Chan, with a snake wrapping him, the black scales are gleaming with greens as it tightens its grip around his neck—

He sighs out deeply and slides down with his head underwater to get rid of an unsettling intrusive thought.

It’s Thursday, so it’s been four days, so he already learned the difference between prophecies and visions—the former is an image forcibly put in his head; the latter is a vivid picture that changes the reality. The vision implies there’s someone out there, locked in a room full of teeth jelly, gets shot and resurrects again and again, or is running through the infinite dark forest. The prophecy is a prediction, usually metaphorical and unfinished—Chan would get hurt by a person symbolized by a snake, the cashier will steal money from someone, and something similar to a gold chain will get Changbin killed. He only guesses, but the third eye agrees—he just _feels_ he’s right.

Was the gold chain symbolizing his own pride? He’s ready to admit it’s killing him now.

***

He doesn’t really understand how he came to this idea—the past day was a blur of prophecies and visions, and for the whole Friday he has been seeing images of him killing everyone he knows, including himself, and it's unbearable to the point where he's about to start acting very impulsive and irrational.

_You think you can do thi_ **_Take care._ **

Changbin immediately throws the kitchen knife in the sink—it makes a distinct clink sound when it hits the ceramic, and the blood splashes in small dots around it, contrasting the light white surface. For a split second it feels like he has gone blind on his own two eyes too—there’s nothing in front of him, just darkness with photopsia and bright spots, like those staying on the back of your eyelids after you look at the lamp. It passes fairly quickly and he can see again.

To gouge out a third eye wasn’t that painful as he expected, it felt like a cut—weirdly enough, now he just has a long bloody line across his forehead the size of the eye. Just like this third eye never existed.

Maybe it actually never did and he just completely went crazy and made it up. Even the cut stops leaking fresh blood too soon for a normal one.

Changbin washes his hands, his face and the sink with ice cold water and looks in the mirror, gripping the sides of the sink. He can’t look away, but doesn't think of anything except of how fucking _exhausted_ he is. He’s not even happy it’s over now—yeah, he’s going to sleep properly, go outside or waste his time on the internet. How exciting.

Maybe this could’ve worked out if he did it properly, not just impulsively out of his jealousy. There are probably some guidebooks. He would’ve probably learned it gradually and figured out how to interpret the prophecies and visions, he’s not the only person with a third eye ever, right? He would’ve found a mentor and they would explain it to him. Maybe he just opened it too harshly and you need to open it in multiple steps.

He doesn’t wanna know anymore.

 _Hope I can be used as a bad example for clairvoyance textbooks,_ he thinks and leaves the bathroom.

The lighter is slowly dying—two or three first snaps it only spits short sparkles before giving him stable blue flame. Changbin sits right on the stairs outside the apartment block entrance—fuck, he haven’t been outside for a damn week, and nobody cares on a Saturday night about a young man sitting on the ground and smoking, when he has bandages over his forehead and such an expression—he’s not sure what it looks like, but he hopes it’s fitting.

It was a great experience, nonetheless. He really looked at ordinary things differently and gained some knowledge. And got bit in the ass by the consequences of his childish jealousy. After all, he never knows what his friends go through because of their powers. When they say ignorance is bliss.

 _With big power comes big responsibility_ , he remembers and reaches for his phone in his pocket—finally, no white noise in his ears drilling through his temples—and starts the message for Jisung. He needs to text him about this Irene—all three of them were connected to her, even, contextually, the man who was getting shot.

It would be more rational to text Woojin, he looks like a person who has more knowledge about all this magician beef. Or Hyunjin, he doesn’t live at the bottom of the river, he definitely knows more. But Changbin feels that he should text Jisung—was this a leftover of his third eye, he doesn’t know anymore. He probably just misses him. On top of that he had an epiphany about his feelings, so he should discuss this too. Just don’t do this straight away, at least lead the conversation into i.

 ** _You 2:11_**  
_do you perhaps know any Irenes??_

**Author's Note:**

> [ inspo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CqJ-6J0H4g0)   
>  [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/woosangenjoyer)


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